Quiangular: Romance and the Four Sided Triangle
by malcious lufoy
Summary: -mild SLASH- Threats by letter opener, four sided triangles, tacos, Mr. Arbor Day, Snape on ether, Malfoy and Feng Shui? find out more, in...Quiangular!
1. It's a WHAT?

Title: Quiangular  
  
by: malcious lufoy  
  
Rating: PG basically...well, there is some threats made...and a metion of a "venereal disease" and talk of flambee-ing a character...but you'll have to read and wait for that! (shameless plug to get you to read it). No, really, it's full of good ol' fashioned humor. Nothing insinuating, I promise!  
  
Warnings: Ah, well, there is some slash in here, so if you can't stand it, then don't read it! And it's Snarry too...so if that just doesn't push your buttons, then you don't have to read it either!  
  
Disclaimer: J.K. won't be offended if I took them away form her for a while, would she? sneaks off with candies Come here, little Snapey...it's ok to take candy from strangers, really! I won't do anything too terrible to you... (...and no, they are not mine...but they soon will be! Ahahaha! AhahaHA!)

* * *

"A Quiangle." 

"A _what_?!" Harry spluttered orange juice all over the breakfast table.

Hermione looked dead serious as she stood above them, books in hand. "Seriously, Harry, if you're going to pass Arithmancy, you have to know what these things are. Weren't you paying attention in class? Professor Vector was talking about four dimensional shapes."

Ron looked over at them both, as he scoffed down his toast. "Harry was a bit preoccupied."

His friend nodded, remembering well that his sometime arch-nemesis had been launching pointy quills at him during class, and he'd turned around to hiss at Malfoy until Professor Vector looked disapprovingly at him for not paying attention. In fact, said arch-nemesis was smirking at him right now, in satisfaction of the latest victory.

The glaring contest between the two was interrupted by Hermione's sharp rap with a rolled piece of parchment on Harry's head. She was in her 'lecture stance', and both Ron and Harry reflexively reacted by tuning her out as a mild buzzing noise.

"Everyone knows what a quiangle is, it was a huge development in theoretical arithmancy a few years back, suggesting the possibility of alternate planes of reality, since a quiangle can only exist in four dimensional space. Alternate planes, suggested something that Master Arithmancians have wanted to know all along, the very mechanics of magic itself.

"Since we use quiangles in the more complicated magical equations, we may very well be able to use quiangular triangulations to access the magical plane itself. If it exists. Of course, this is all highly theoretical. I'd rather do something more substantial, but professor Vector wanted us to try something harder, this year."

"Hermione," Harry's face looked pained. "In all the years you've known me, did you really expect me to understand what you're saying? And if what I think you're saying is what I think you're saying, it doesn't really matter what a...a quiangle? _is_, so much as how can I do these problems with them in it." He said this while gesturing towards his Arithmancy book, and the horrible looking involuted problems that were in it.

"You're wrong, Harry, you do need to know what a quiangle is, in order to do the problems listed in the book. That's like trying to say, how likely Malfoy has nice hippie tree-huggers over for dinner, with out knowing who Malfoy is." Ron looked at him earnestly, while he said this.

Both Hermione and Harry dived under the table.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ron screeched, as they both wiggled and sat on his and various other people's feet.

"I'm sorry, but the end of the world can't be far away... I just want you to know that you've been a good friend, Ron, and that you've always been there for me." Harry's muffled voice drifted out from under the table.

Weasley poured some syrup onto his pancakes, while he calmly cut them and started on his breakfast. "Yeah, don't worry, if you die, I'll bury your body in a shallow hole." He said, benevolently.

"It's nice to know that you care," Harry said, as he took his regular place beside his friend. "Well, if it's important enough that _you_ told me to learn it..."

"Ohhhoho....you listen to Ron, but not me, when he tells you to study. Let us bow down to the Revered One's wisdom in cramming five minutes before the Transfiguration exam, and the remarkable Zen of marking 'C' in all questions dealing with goblin rebellions in History of Magic quizzes."

"Hey, it works!" He protested.

Harry looked down at his Arithmancy book, trying to read in-between the dry, convoluted math-language that his instructions were written in. And, contrary to popular (or Professor Vector's) belief, reading it three times did _not_, in fact, make it any clearer. He'd never be able to understand what it said, not without an endless supply of Arithmancy dictionaries. He'd have to have someone explain it to him.

"Ok, so what is a quiangle?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then back at Harry, and gave him a pitying look. "It's a four sided triangle."

"A _what_?!"

"A four sided triangle, Harry, It's a triangle with four sides. A square triangle, a quiangle. It only exists in the fourth dimension."

"But that's impossible! How could that possibly work? And...and how would something look like in the fourth dimension? How could you....?"

Hermione sighed. "I know exactly how you feel, Harry. I had the same problem. I had no clue, people kept telling me, explaining to me what a quiangle was...but I couldn't get it. Until, of course, one day Justin Finch-Fletchy told me.... he...well, just explained it in a way that made me understand." Here she blushed a little, looking over to the Hufflepuff table at the brown hairdo boy.

"Can _you_ explain it to me?" Harry asked.

"Well...the thing is, you really have to know how a person thinks, in order to tell it to them in a way that they can understand...I could _try_, but to be honest to you, I don't know if I can show you what it is."

"There's no 'what it is' about it, Hermione, it's a four-sided triangle. That's all."

"Ron..."

"Ok ok...it's kinda hard to explain.."

"Did _you_ ever explain it to someone?"

"Yeah...well, it was this sixth year Ravenclaw..." he trailed off, looking a little flustered. "She didn't get it at first, but once I went through the steps of drawing it..."

"All right, we'll both try to explain it to you, besides, the arithmancy set isn't due till a week from now. Plenty of time to get you to understand."

Ohhh how wrong she was.

-----------------------------------

He went over it again.

"You see, it's not so much that there are _four sides_, as there are _three sides_ and _another_ one, that doesn't make an another angle." He pointed down at the book in front of them. He traced one dotted line from the graph across to where it intersected something that looked like a deformed rhombus.

"Of course, these pictures don't really make any sense until you _know_ what a quiangle is." The red haired boy admitted.

Ron and Harry were sitting in the common room area, by the fireplace, as one spoke, and the other one tried not to bang his head into the wall, ceiling, table, sofa, chair, other random people around him, the mantle clock,velvet drapes, windows, or Crookshanks.

Everyone there gave Harry their sympathy, and then even more when they saw who was trying to illustrate it to him.

Hermoine sighed from the sofa, and got up to sit beside them. "Ron, just stop. Even I can see that your explanations make no sense."

"Oh, and I expect yours does?" He replied derisively.

"Of course. A quiangle is not so much a _triangle_, as it is a square that has _three_ angles crossed with a triangle with _four_."

Harry just looked at her. For some reason, they seemed to think that speaking slowly and emphasis on key words made it easier to understand.

Ron shook his head. "That sooo doesn't make any sense. In fact, it made less sense then Malfoy kissing a muggle baby."

"_You_ make less sense the Malfoy kissing a muggle baby." It degenerated from there to endless bickering.

"...doorknob could follow my instructions..."

"...what does kissing a muggle baby...?...and don't call Harry a doorknob!"

It was then that Harry groaned, no longer able to resist the temptation.

"Yeeooowww!" Crookshanks leaped into the air, as a messy, dark head rammed into his side. Ron and Hermione stopped snipping at each other, as they looked at their friend in concern. He looked harried, and frustrated, and tired. Five days of learning nebulous shapes and equations which he was _never_ going to use (though for some reason, Professor Vector seemed to think it necessary in order to function in everyday society, and quite possibly the human respiratory system) was getting to him.

"God I'd love to kill whoever came up with this."

Hermione looked surprised. "Well, all you'd have to do would be to go to Sirius's house."

"Huh?" Came his witty rejoinder.

"You mean you don't know? Sirius was the one who came up with quiangles. He was quite the arithmancy student at Hogwarts."

"_Sirius_? _Arithmancy_? I always thought transfigurations..."

"Yes, well...he was top in transfigurations, but Professor Vector said that the only reason he didn't do so well in his class, was because he could only get the concept, but could never do calculations as well as he did in theory. Really, Harry, didn't you know he has a degree in Advanced Magical Arithmancical Nebulous Incoherent Non-Applicable Theory? "

Harry reeled under the long title of his godfather's master.

"You should probably go talk to him about it. He's the one who made it up. Maybe he can explain it to you." Ron told his friend, while trying to console Crookshanks,(who was now firmly stuck to his arm) with a chocolate frog.

"Sirius, _arithmancy_!"

------------------------------  
  
It was nighttime on a Saturday, and the common room was basically deserted, the curtains were closed, making the only light in the whole room come from he candle that Harry was holding in his hand. He didn't have to wait for long.

A loud sound came from the fireplace, as a roar of flames rushed out from inside that brick structure, leaving a man flopped down on the ashen hearth.

"Sirius, are you alright?" He asked his godfather, kneeling down by him as the other got up and brushed the ash off of his cloak.

"Goddamn Floo system....er, sorry about that. Well, Harry, here I am. Now, what did you want me to explain to you?"

But his godson just stood there, looking at Sirius, and tried to picture him in Arithmancy. No, tried to depict him as a master in Advanced Magical Arithmancical Nebulous Incoherent Non-Applicable Theory, muttering crazily to himself as he feverishly wrote out long, convoluted equations to plague children with for generations to come.

"You..._arithmancy_?"

Sirius sighed, as he led his godson to the sofa, sat down, and looked him in the face. "Yeah, well, what can I say? I could simply like arithmancy, or have been used in some vast governmental conspiracy in a high profile mind experiment involving infecting further children with my disease using subliminal messages." He shrugged. "Either way, as a result, I'm an arithmancy theorist."

Harry was more inclined to believe in the latter. "But... how...can you explain it to me? I mean, I have no idea what in blue blazes a quiangle is, and my set is due the day after tomorrow! No one could tell me exactly what it is..."

Sirius coughed, "Well...it's kinda hard to explain, Harry. You see, you can't really know what a quiangle is, until you _know_ what it is."

"That helps..." Harry muttered to himself.

"It's like someone asking you to describe what..." He thought for a while, "what talking to a non-evil Oprah watching, flower arranging Lucius is like."

There he paused, while both he and Harry shuddered at the mental picture.

"You can't describe it, until you've experienced it. I remember when I first discovered it, the only person I could explain it to was Remus. I suppose being, er...." Here he paused a little, looking a bit flustered. "Friends....with him makes me understand him better. Which makes it easier to explain it to him.

"I suppose, the more someone knows about you, and understands you, the easier it will be for that person to explain it to you. I know that Mrs. Weasley explained it to Ron, and seeing as he's her son, she would know how to word it in a way that he knew what she as saying."

"Could you explain it to me? I mean, after all, you are my godfather."

"I could try...but I don't know if I could get through to you. My explanations can get a little obscure...if you really want my advice, go ask some of the other teachers to help explain it to you. Teachers _have_ to deal with explaining things to children in different ways all the time, since everyone learns differently. They'll probably be able to help you more then I could."

"That's helpful..." Harry replied, but didn't sound to convinced. "There are tons of Professors at school, I wouldn't have time to go running around to ask them all. I can't ask Professor Vector...he just explains it like it does in the book, which might as well be gobbledegook for all it says."

"Thanks, Harry," Sirius said dryly. His godson thought about what he'd just said.

"You mean you wrote that involuted piece of cra- eative piece of work?" His voice slurred what he was going to say, with a quick cover up. Somehow he was torn between awe and pride for his godfather- and an indirect sort of accusation.

"Nice save." Sirius said dryly. Harry gave a weak chuckle. "It's ok, I know it's obscure...that's why I didn't think I could explain it very well." His godfather admitted. "Of course, I like using big words. They make me feel smarter, and impress other stupid people, too."

Here he paused in thought. "Well, if you're going to go ask for help...." Sirius trailed off, looking unsure.

"What? What is it?" He said, jumping at _any_ chance he could get.

"Err...well, he does have a solid grasp in theoretics... and he did very well in Arithmancy..." Sirius choked on the last.

"Who?"

Sirius looked solemnly at the teenager before him. "Professor Snape."

"What!!?"

"Exactly."

"But...but..he'd never be able to help me..." Harry groaned, picturing it in his head, hearing the sarcastic voice. 'Mr.Potter, if possible, I would like to intern you to a museum, seeing that a person as dumb as yourself can be nothing other then a live Neanderthal.' "Either that or I'd never make it out alive..."

"He's very good at explaining things." Sirius prompted, trying to bolster his spirits. "And, loathe though I am to say this, he very nearly out-stripped anyone in our class in comprehension of the subject." He admitted.

Harry sighed. It was worth a try, besides, if asking Snape didn't work out, he could always ask some other teachers.

His voice was resigned when he spoke. "I suppose so. I'm glad you came. At least now I know that I still have a few options left before I hurl myself out the window."

"Why's that?"

"Because Hermione would be furious with me if she found out I'd failed Arithmancy. This way, It'll be a quick death." He said mournfully.

------------------------------

"So, did Sirius help you any?" Ron asked the next morning.

"If by 'help', you mean 'thoroughly demolish any small flittering hope within me', then yeah, he did."

His friend looked startled. "It can't be that bad...didn't he explain it to you?"

"No, he said his explanations were obscure.." Harry said miserably, his head lowered as he watched an ant carry off some of his toast dispiritedly.

"So you got no help at all?" Ron's' voice incredulous, as he looked at his friend.

"No, he did help...he told me to ask some teachers.... one in specific..."

Hermione's eyes lighted with interest. "Who is it? I didn't know anyone else besides Professor Vector or him that would be able to help you. If Sirius mentioned it..."

Harry looked gloomily across his table to the staffs', watching as Snape's displeased Glare of Deadly Death (TM) was cocked and aimed at anyone within his range of sight. Ron had already got an inkling when his friend looked moodily across the room...

"Professor Snape."

"What!!" They cried in unison. It was now Ron's turn to splutter orange juice all over the table.

"He expects you to work with Snape, and not come out horribly mutilated, or one of you're limbs preserved in a jar on his desk?"

"Ron, be serious! He'd never do that to Harry..." Her voice quelled as Ron gave her a _look_. "Well... at least not with Dumbledore here."

Ron shook his head incredulously. "_Sirius_, asking Harry...Snape...same room!" He couldn't even come up with a sentence that would make sense with the two of them in it, without the words 'kill', or 'horrendous injury' in it. "It'd be impossible, Hermoine, absolutely impossible! It makes less sense then...then...Malfoy having Feng Shui as a hobby!"

"Malfoy...? Feng Shui?" Harry said weakly. This was all to much for him. He shook his head. "I'd...I'd better go to his office after breakfast to see if he'd help me..."

Hermione looked over at the staff table, where Dumbledore was speaking in a cheery voice, and Snape was wincing. "That's probably a good idea... go to him after morning coffee."

"With my luck...he'll probably just be more alert to things that irritate him, instead of being in a sleepy fog."

"I'd rather believe the former." Ron said comfortingly.  
  
------------------------------

END

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Note: Sooo...that was chapter one! I hoped you enjoyed it! Up next is the ominous meeting between Harry and Snape. And, to tell the truth, I have al the other chapters done...all I need to do is upload them...heh heh heh...I am so evil! Just look at my name! 

So, if you want to read the rest...you'll have to review, and spread the word of this fic to others! (please?) So, go forth, my pilgrims...progress, ho!


	2. Harry Meets His DOOM

Title: **Quiangular**

by: malcious lufoy

rating: PG

disclaimer: I think that by now, all of you can tell I am not J.K. Rowling. And if you think I am, i'm really flattered.

note: Thank you all for the (mostly) great reviews!

VioletEyes- Yes, you will find out what a quiangle is...not in this chapter, though...hehehe. (Don't worry, it's in the next one after this.)

Geena-Waters- Thank you for reviewing it! I get insecure if I think no ones reading it.

Vanyaria Darkshadow- I'm so glad you enjoyed it so much! First time I'm put on a favorites list...this calls for celebration! (pulls out noise maker and toots it randomly) Thank you also for reviewing my other fics.

Hekate- There is more...and you'll get it in this chapter if no other! Heh heh heh...but I don't want to give it away.

Terra4- Yes, there is much explanation of a quiangle, confusedly, at first, but I think I got it across...ish.

Silverthreads- Since you have paid the accpeted fee, I shall now dole out anoher chapter. Continue reading!

AestheticSham- Sorry if you found it offensive, or anything. I do have terrible grammar, and the characterization is supposed to be exaggerated and/or extreme...that's the whole fun of writing a humor fic. Actually, I don't know why I'm even writing this if you didn't like it, since most likely won't read it again.

Anyways...on with the story!

* * *

Harry was standing outside the door to Professor Snape's office, wondering if he should just bolt for it, and take his chances with failing.

He'd prefer the latter, but then again, Hermione would probably never let him hear the end of it. He could just imagine her voice getting shriller as she lectured, 'Harry James Potter! You could have gotten help, you could have tried at least to understand it, but you were to cowardly to endure one unpleasant evening with Professor Snape. You brought this on yourself!'. He shuddered.

Now resigned, he bravely knocked on the door, hoping against hope that Snape wasn't there, but apparently he was.

"Come in." Harry gulped. He didn't sound very happy. What was he thinking! Of course he wasn't happy! This was _Snape_! He was going to _kill_ him! He gathered up his courage, though, and pushed the door in.

"Calm down, Harry ol' boy, just go in there, and everything will be ok, yes everything will just be..." He stopped talking to himself, as he heard a familiar (and hated) voice say,

"...no wonder you're in such a foul mood, the dynamic of this room is just to imbalanced. Your desk is positioned at the wrong angle, disturbing the flow of the positive energies in the room."

It was then that Harry saw that the person who spoke these words was Draco Malfoy.

"Potter!" He yelped, wondering if the other had heard what he just said. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I just wanted to talk to Professor Snape." Harry quickly glanced at the other out of the corner of his eye. Snape was perched on his chair, almost looming behind aforementioned desk, looking tired, irritable, and ready to take it out on the nearest Potter in sight. He looked up and gave Harry a baleful glare.

Draco looked back and smirked, as Harry gulped. "Well, Potter," He drawled out, "I hope you have fun."

The door slammed shut. It does _not_ sound final. It does _not_. Nope, not at all, Harry thought. What was that above the door? Was that an...inscription? He squinted for another look. 'Aba don all hope al ye w o ent r here.'

"What is it Potter?" Snape said through clenched teeth. Harry whipped his head around.

"I have tomorrow's lesson to plan, _Hufflepuff_ quizzes to grade, and a meeting with Dumbledore about the new DADA teacher for next year. I also have several _very_ long essays to grade on ointments. I'd like to get _those_ finished as fast as I can, to inflict as little pain upon myself as possible while reading them." His voice was silkenly deadly. "This had _better_ be important."

Harry shivered. "Um...err...well, you see Pr-professor,"

Snape brought his hands up to rub his temples in an attempt to relieve himself of the pain of hearing the boy speak. Bad enough that he had to go with _decaffeinated_ coffee today, and bad enough that the headmaster had been particularly _cheerful_ this morning, and wanted to inflict that cheerfulness on him- but Potter, the _last_ person he wanted to see right now, was here, in his office. His sanctuary in which he could scowl and glower to his hearts content. "For godsake, spit it out. It's likely that you're infecting me with your stupidity, so I would like to get rid of you as fast as possible."

"Um, yes. I was...kinda hoping you'd do me a favor. Well, you see, Sirius-" At each word, the painfully throbbing vein in Snape's head increased. He rubbed harder. "he uh, well- he, err, told me I should talk to you. You see, it's... about my Arithmancy-"

Snape cut him off. "To long. I'm afraid you'll have to leave. I can already feel that sucking vortex of doom that you seem to think is a brain pulling away all intellect from my mind." His eyes roved around the paper strewn desk. "Ah! here's it is." The potions Master had a nasty, maniacal gleam in his eye, as he picked up the plastic letter opener and looked directly at Harry. "Let's use it on something suitably fleshy." And gave the other an evil smile.

Oh shit. Shit shit shit, Harry thought, trying to back away.

---------

A voice from nowhere started speaking, "Is this the end of Harry Potter? Will he escape from the grisly malicious clutches of The _Professor_?"

"Meep."

The voice continued. "Who will help him with Arithmancy? Find out when _Silence of the Potter_ continues."

"Oh, shut your trap." Snape said to the mirror at the top of the ceiling, chucking _Hogwarts: A History_ at it. He turned back to Harry. "And did you just say 'meep'? _Meep_?"

Harry gulped. That probably wasn't a good idea, since the business end of the letter opener was awfully close. (So what if it was plastic? It was Snape. He could probably decapitate with a straw, and dismember with a crayon) "Err..yes Professor. Um..could you put that down, now? It's surprisingly close to my...uh, throat."

"Say it quickly, or else I might get really irritated." His dark eyes glittered, as the pointy end looked even pointier then before, as it veered towards Harry's jugular.

"_HelpmewithArithmancy_!" He yelped.

Snape dropped the letter opener back onto his desk in surprise. "_You_, want _me_, to help you with arithmancy." He said incredulously.

"Um, yes?" Harry cringed away as the other man laid his hand down on the desktop, surprisingly near the letter opener. He was trying very hard not to stare at it. Though, he did admit, Snape had a surprisingly graceful hand. Even when clutching a weapon of DOOM.

Snape gave him a look. "_You_ want _me_, who isn't even your head of house, who isn't even an Arithmancy teacher. Help _you_, one who's brain is so small, you have to forget everything in the past five minutes so it won't explode with the effort." He said, voice velvety and deadly.

_God his voice could really paralyze you..._ Harry thought, locked in place. "Sirius said you were the best at it in school." He said quickly, hoping that buttering him up with compliments would help.

"You can't butter me up with compliments, Potter. I'm not a piece of toast." Snape replied, shooting the other a glare, though he did look a bit mollified. The boy's godfather was a declared arithmancy genius.

"Uh..._please_ help me?" Harry really didn't think it would work. Though maybe he would enjoy him begging, since everyone seemed to think Snape had one of those strange dominace-submission complexes. Though if you thought about it...

"Why, now that you mention it, I'd love to!" Snape said.

"Really?" Harry said hopefully.

"Yes, really, Potter, it is my very dream and desire." He replied, sarcasm thick enough to eat with a spoon, sop up with cornbread, and then lick off the plate with it and call for seconds.

"Oh..um, you're not serious, are you?"

Snape simply stared at him. "I will not dignify that with an answer. Now, where were we? Ah, yes." His eyes alighted when he spotted the letter opener, and started to pick it up again.

Harry frantically searched his mind for a way to leave without one of his limbs hacked off. Ron and Hermoine would come in for Potions and wonder whose arm was in a jar on Snape's desk until they saw that he was blatantly missing one. "I'll...I'll scrub cauldrons for a month!"

The hand stilled, as Snape listened with interest.

"Um...two months!" The Potion's Master raised his brow elegantly. "And I'll peel all the shrivelfigs!" The eyebrow rose even higher.

"Err...and gut all the flobberworms!"

Snape gave him a satisfied smile. "Very well then. Be here at seven tomorrow. You may leave now."

Harry scrambled away, in relief. He quickly made his way to the office door, and closed it behind him, sighing, coming away from the meeting curiously flushed. "Well, that was bizzar. At least the worst is over, though."

He realized then that he would have to spend the next two months doing really nasty chores in the Potions classroom with Snape watching his every move and breath.

He sighed. "Why does always this happen to _me_?"

-------------------------------

Back in the office, Snape sat behind his desk, fingers steepled evilly, as he smiled, in satisfaction. He got out a list from the top drawer of his desk, and went down the it, checking off each of his chores as he hummed. 

"Hmm...cleaning cauldrons, Potter. Stacking jars of bubultor pus...Draco Malfoy. Peeling Shrivelfigs...Potter. Scrapping gum off desks...Terry Boot. De-gutting frogs...Colin Creevy." There he stopped, to look at what was left. He tapped his chin with the quill. "No one to gather blast-ended skrewt's venom..."

A knock at his door interrupted his musing. "Um... Professor? I'm here about my detention..."

Snape smirked. "Come in."

--------------------------------

"So Harry, how'd it go?" Hermione asked him. He had come back to the common room after the meeting with Snape, not saying a word to any of them. He'd just plopped down on the sofa to warm himself by the fire, and was now curiously reading Hermione's History of Magic essay.

"Hmm...how many inches was our essay supposed to be? I only did twelve."

Distracted, Hermione started lecturing. "Really Harry! Weren't you paying attention? Your mind is like a sieve! Not even a normal sieve, one with only one really big hole in it. Professor Bi-"

She was cut off. "Hey Harry, how'd it go?" Ron asked, coming down the stairs.

Harry continued. "But wasn't this supposed to be on the Feldeghast uprising in 781 AD?" He looked at Hermione questioningly, since she had added an extra five inches on the negotiations beforehand.

"Well, yes, but I thought it would be irrelevant withou-"

"Wait. Hermione." Ron cut her off again.

"What? I'm trying to explain my paper to-"

"Harry's never interested in your papers."

Ron was forewarned about what she was going to say by her 'lecture stance' (TM). "Humph. Just because you, Ron Weasley, never felt any need to improve your essays, doesn't mean that you should prevent Harry from doing better!" Ron winced at Hermione's piercing voice. "Besides, you both always ask me all sorts of ques-"

"Yeah," he cut her off, "but we usually tune you out as a mild buzzing noise. We only talk to you about your essays to distract you. So why is he paying attention to what your saying now?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you say?" her voice was dangerous, but, unable to see the glaring, fifty foot flashing neon sign indicating danger, Ron ignored her.

"So, Harry, why won't you answer us? I'm amazed you didn't come out without a limb severed. Or possibly decapitated." Hermione hit him with _Hogwarts: A History_.

"Ron Weasley! Did you just say that you completely ignore all the well meant advice I give you on how to write your essays? _Mild buzzing noise_? See if I ever help you with anything ever again!"

"Ow! What'd you do that for? I was _trying_ to help Harry get over his trauma, but no, you just had to interrupt this well meant male-bonding moment with you freakish girlie vibes, didn't you?"

"Oh, I see, it's _my_ fault. And _freakish girlie vibes_?"

"Yeah..._freakish_...like Lucius Malfoy wearing embroidered pansies."

"You shouldn't be the one to talk...and pansies? What does that-"

"Shut your pansies!"

Hermione looked incredulous. "What kind of comeback was _that_? What kind of comeback was THAT?"

The bickering was interrupted by the rustle of paper, as Harry looked up at them from the essay. "Don't ask me to talk about it. I'm trying to get over the trauma by suppressing it in a tiny ball till it's too much and I freak out in the middle of a supermarket ten years later."

"Oh, well, then it's all right then." Ron said.

Hermione hit him over the head again.

Harry sighed. It wasn't so much that Snape had threatened him with an _extremely_ pointy object,(though that had been scarring) or that he had actually _agreed_ to do two months of disgusting grunt work for _Snape_ in the _dungeons_ in _winter_. So much as that the Professor had seemed...well, kinda...sexy in that dangerously looming sort of way.

I did _not_ just think that. I _did not_ just think that. I did _NOT_ just think that! Harry started panicking, but his mind then automatically blanked and rewound-

So much as that he had seemed...dangerously loomingly psychotic, in a sexy sort of way.  
Wait...that didn't seem right- so his mind blanked again, and rewound-

So much as that he had seemed...menacingly dangerously maniacal. In a psychotically sexy kind of way.

He shook his head, as he subconsciously wiped his memory and rewound and tried again-

So much as that he had seemed...Psychotically dangerous in a mad- killing-spree I'm a crazy lunatic who owns an Uzi to shoot cockroaches- .....kind of sort of sexy way.

"AGHH!!!" Harry screamed, springing to his feet, and banged his head on the wall. Hermione and Ron looked up at him in surprise. "_Hello_! You're _supposed_ to be helping me _suppress_ it! _Suh_. _Press_. _It_." He said to his inner subconscious, each syllable emphasized by a bang.

Ron shook his head. "I think it's to late. He's already gone bonkers. It must be a virulent disease, being crazy." He said to Hermione. She nodded sagely, then went back to her essay.

---------------------------

Harry woke up early, head woozy. After repeated blows to his brain, he had finally suppressed enough to his satisfaction. Well, more of forgotten everything in the spinning, dizzying pain, or maybe that was the brain damage talking...well! What ever it was, it had completely cleared his mind for today.

He slowly sneaked out, gathering with him his arithmancy book, and some parchment and quills, not wanting to disturb Ron, knowing his friend would grill him like a piece of steak for answers about yesterday's interview. He should have been, by all rights, sleeping in today, but... he had to go and actually learn what Snape was blabbing about this time, instead of tuning out. Harry shook his head, Sirius would pay! Ohohohoho...just he wait, when he least expected it, Harry would get his payback...he gave an evil grin, disturbingly like Malfoy's.

The dark haired boy slowly crept down the hallways, and went down into the dungeons. He paused, beside Snape's doorway, wondering if he should wait until the Potion's Master was in a better mood. Realizing that that would entail standing there for the next ten years, or unless Snape was on ether (there were rumors...), he bravely went in, preparing for the worst.

"Profe-" He started to shout, but the door to his office was closed, and a sign was posted on it for him, reading:

_ Mr. Potter, you will proceed to the old History of Magic classroom on the third floor, in the fourth corridor. It is the first room on the left. I will meet you presently.  
_

Well, that was a relief, he really didn't know if he was ready enough to meet Snape at seven in the morning on a Sunday, when the man clearly wanted to leave his weekends student-free.

Harry followed the directions, climbing up to the third floor, and went straight to the old classroom. He opened the door, and looked inside. There was nothing but some old desks, and a dusty blackboard. Windows lined the whole room on the left side, letting through a flood of morning sunlight into the dusty room. No Snape.

Well, there was nothing to do but wait, then. He sighed and walked to one of the desks, plopping down his books onto the chair, and sat down. Waiting for what seemed like hours, the boy had already managed to fill up a whole page of his notebook with doodles, when Snape all of a sudden burst in.

The door slammed open with a bang, and left a harried looking Snape coming through the doorway like a whirlwind. Harry looked gobsmacked.

"Ugk..." He strangled out of his throat.

The professor deposited his books onto a nearby desk, and whirled around to face Potter.

"What is it, Mr.Potter, that leaves you in such shock?" He asked, eyebrow tilting upwards, mockingly. His voice laced with amusement. "And did you actually just say _ugk_?"

Well, Snape was wearing what appeared to be some well tailored slacks, and a white shirt with cuffs rolled back. And was the collar slightly unbuttoned? He could even see the faint hollow of the other's throat. Harry really didn't think Snape even knew _how_ to unbutton things. It just didn't seem likely to be built into his internal Snape-mechanism. Harry was pretty sure that there wasn't an unbutton button in Snape mechanics. How...how could this _be_?

"You...your clothes, Professor! They...they're different!"

Snape just simply rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I'm sure the whole world just loves to wear the same scratchy wool outfit in all weathers, everyday, for 365 days out of the year. Unless you're Santie Claus..." He muttered the last, wonderingly. Snape shook his head. That was the ether talking. _Damned oral surgeons! Surgery on oral wasn't really_ real _surgery anyways! Play computer generated music while_ I _wait for half an hour with nothing but cheap magazines, then leave_ late _and high on drugs. Not unlike the seventies...  
_

Harry blatently ignored the Santie Claus comment, his brain absolutely refused to compute that Snape, of all people, had said the word '_Santie'_. "You mean you actually have _other_ clothes?" He said, incredulous.

The Potion's Master simply gave him a _look_.

"Sorry I asked," The other mumbled.

Snape said exaggeratingly patient, and slowly, as if talking to a four year old child, "Yes, Mr. Potter, I have other clothes. I also do not sleep in a coffin, and contrary to popular belief, I do wash my hair. Now, would you like me to read you a story next time you go nighty-night?" His voice cutting and sarcastic.

Harry pretended to brighten at the idea, knowing that it would annoy the other man to no end. "Now that you mention it..."

Dark eyes narrowed at this, "If you wish to improve your Arithmancy marks, I suggest you do nothing to antagonize me further."

"Alright alright...jeez, can't you take a joke?" Harry muttered, more to himself then in a response. Snape gave him a look as if to say, 'Are you joking?' Harry looked up from his notebook, and took another closer look at his professor. He looked...slightly different without all those billowing robes. In fact, you could actually tell Snape looked like a normal human being, instead of an over grown bat. (Or a robot, depending on the rumor.)

The pale morning light that filtered in through the windows had accentuated Snape's pale skin with actual color, as well as the hectic climb he took when going up the stairs. His 'new' set of clothes showed his profile to an advantage. The pants were fit close, but not tight, and in combination with a distinctly distinguished looking starched white shirt...he looked almost handsome. Attractive, even. _Err_... Harry shook his head. Did he just think that?

"Mr. Potter!" Snape said sharply, for the second time. "As _interesting_ as my attire is, I'm sure you would like to get on with this? Unlike the rest of the world, I would like to spend as least amount of time with you as possible." He said sarcasticly, as the words rolled off his tongue.

Snape wasn't sure he was getting through to him, though. The glassy look in those green eyes made him feel...distinctly _uneasy_. Really, the boy looked absolutely clueless! First, he had to rush to finish the solution that had been simmering all night for his new batch of calming potion, (he seemed to go through it at surprising speeds) and then, rush off to the dentist and the horrific transition after the appointment, in which the ether absolutely _refused_ to wear off. Then Dumbledore had caught him talking to his sock, because he thought it was another person. Now to top it off, the boy doesn't even pay attention when he speaks to him!

After a long pause, (in which Snape tapped his foot a lot, the other looked puzzled, and increasingly confused) Harry spoke. "Err...what, professor?"

"Well? You said you had a problem with Arithmancy. What is it? Additions with runes? Proportionalitles?"

"The quiangle."

Snape went stiff, then sagged down into a chair. "Of all the things to choose.." he muttered, while shaking his head. Knowing Potter, it would probably take the next millennia and the third coming of Christ to even get him to understand. Unless he strangled the boy first.

"I've tried to do quiangular triangulations without knowing what a quiangle is, but..." Harry tried explaining.

Snape shook his head. Perhaps if he started off with the basics, then they could go from there if he still didn't grasp the concept. "Well, Potter. Get out your book."

Harry took it out of the stack beside him, while Snape picked it up, and flipped through the pages. Hmm... well, he could try to explain it through the graphs first.

He laid the book out on Harry's desk and walked to the chalkboard, whipping out his wand. With the tip, he drew out the entire graph in the arithmancy book onto the board, exactly the same in detail.

"Now, Mr. Potter," He said, leaning closely over Harry's shoulder, pointing to the drawing on the graph. "You see how this line intersects this line? That is the exact middle of the quiangle. The center of the quiangle is the exact location of the fourth, non-existant side."

With the Professor's shadow over him, Harry slightly shifted the book towards the light of the window. He followed the dashed line to the exact spot where Snape's finger was resting on the point of intersection, thier hands touching slightly at the center of the picture. "But, what I don't understand, is how this can be here? If you count the sides up, there are four of them. It just looks like some sort of deformed box. That's not a triangle at all."

Snape looked exasperated. "It is not a triangle, Mr. Potter. It is a quiangle. It's supposed to have four sides."

"Isn't that a square, then? And how can there be a non existant side? I mean, if it's there, it's there."

"It's not a square because there aren't four sides. The fourth side doesn't exist in the same place as the other three." It was then that Snape left and went up the the chalk board, and pointed with his wand at the graph. "See? The line is dotted. Therefore, it indicates it is not existing in that place."

"But that's not a dotted line! That's just a dot in the middle of the triangle."

Snape rotated the picture sideways, with his wand directing the movement of the pitcure drawn on the chalk board. "If you look at it from the side, then you can see that it makes a dotted line, a fourth side."

"Then what's that other dotted line?"

"That? Just ignore that. That means nothing."

"But wait, which dotted line is the line that's the fourth side?"

"There is no fourth side, Potter, it's indicated by the dot."

"Then what is the dotted line?"

He rotated the picture again to the front. "The dot."

Harry's brain absolutely refused to make anything out of the picture in front of him. In fact, this made less sense then Lucius Malfoy doing yoga.

(an hour and a half later.)

"Ok, so if the dotted line is the dot, which is the fourth side, then how can it not exist if it exists somewhere else?" 

Snape said irritatedly, "Because it's not in the same place."

"But if something isn't in the same place, that doesn't mean it isn't there. That's like saying the pencil in my room upstairs doesn't exist because it's not here."

"But that exactly what it's saying," Snape said, hoping for some sort of understanding.

Those hopes were dashed. And probably then minced, and puréed. "But it _is_ there."

"Oh, nice argument," Snape shot out, his voice carefully modulated to drip with sarcasm. "_Because it is_."

"Well, it's not as if you're explaining it any better!" Harry spat back, angrily. Really! A half hour of frustrating wrangling got them nowhere.

The Potion's master threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine. We'll try something else."

(an hour and a half later)

"Here. Now you try." He said, handing the younger man a piece of chalk.  
They had been, for the past half hour, talking about how to draw a quiangle. And the harder Harry tried to understand, the _more_ confused he got. Maybe if he payed _less_ attention, he would understand more. Yup. That's what he was doing wrong. 

Snape sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Now, hold the chalk between your thumb and forefinger. Then, press it to the board in front of you, and drag the chalk across to make the pretty shapes." He said very carefully, and slowly.

Harry glared at him covertly, eyes darting back towards Snape. There was no need to mock him when he was actually paying attention for once.

"Now stop glaring at me covertly, and draw it already." The other responded, in a bored tone. As interesting as teaching arithmancy to Potter was, he'd rather be gagging and choking to death on Trelawney's perfume. _She'd probably be happy to hear that_. But he did promise the boy he'd try to help him, though that was difficult when he refused to _draw out the graph_! "Mr. Potter."

"Alright alright! Stop _harrying_ me." He snickered at this though. "Pun intended." Snape just stared at him. Was he really that easily amused?

Harry sketched out the picture, and added a dotted line for good measure. "Err..." He said, looking at it. He moved back so Snape could see the black board.

"That," Snape said, looking at it, "is not a quiangle. That is a square."

"No! It's not a square, see? It has a dotted line there. That means that side isn't there. That's clearly what dotted lines are for."

Snape gave an exasperated sigh. "No, you drew a square with a dotted line for one side. This," He picked up the chalk, and started sketching out another picture beside it, "is a quiangle."

He stared at it dumbfoundedly. "But that's just a triangle with a dot in the middle." Well, Harry did admit that it was an extremely strange looking triangle that seemed kinda warped in that I-was-on-acid-while-I- drew-this sort of way. Or maybe ether.

"Now, draw it again." The Potion's Master told him, taking Harry's hand in his and placing the chalk in the other's palm.

Harry sighed. "Can I use the colored chalk?" He asked meekly.

"No. White is a perfectly fine for what you are doing. The other ones are too fun. Arithmancy is not supposed to be fun- or educational." His tone uncannily like Hermione's when lecturing.

Thus, Harry picked up the chalk again, and drew another picture right next to Snape's.

And Snape seemed to get immediatly frustrated at what he saw. The boy had been paying attention. He even seemed to be thinking, for the short while his rusty little brain could do so! How come he wasn't grasping the concept? "No no, you foolish boy! That is not a quiangle. _That_ is a triangle with a dot in the middle." Hadn't he explained this already?

Harry looked at the two, his green eyes narrowing, and flicking back and forth between the two pictures. The older man stood there watching him. The hard look of concentration made Harry's face serious, the green eyes glittering with the effort to understand, and with frustration that he couldn't. He looked...almost charming. Snape realized he had been staring to long, and looked away shaking his head.

Harry looked at the pictures one last time.

They were identical.

"What's the difference?" He asked, voice incredulous.

Snape looked at him in astonishment. "Can't you see? It's clearly there. Mine has inter-dimensionary space, and yours does not." He picked up his wand from the desk, and waved it at the chalkboard. His picture automatically rotated to the side, and around again, to which Harry saw the same deformed looking shape that Snape had shown him before on the graph.

"Now look what happens, when I try to shift yours." Snape waved his wand at Harry's picture, but nothing happened.

Harry looked disgusted. "Oh, pish pash!"

"_Pish pash_? Did you actually _say_...pish pash?"

"Does this mean that I won't have to do this anymore?" He asked the professor hopefully.

Snape gave him an incredulous look. "What, in any part of that sentace, could you have taken to mean _that_?"

Harry sighed, looked at the board again, and picked up his chalk.

---------

"No, no, no. That's a disfigured rhombus." 

Harry then took an eraser, and made one side have a dotted line. "There, now it's a quiangle!"

"No, now it is a disfigured rhombus with a dotted line for a side."

"But the fourth side is non existing."

"No, this picture _still_ has four sides!"

"But it has a dotted line! A dotted line!"  
  
"Wait, that looks nothing like the other triangle you drew." Harry told him.

"Of course it does!" Snape said, insulted.

"No.... there's a dotted line instead of a dot."

"The dot is the dotted line, Mr. Potter."

"But, then this," He pointed to his rectangle, "Has to be a quiangle too. It has a dotted line!" He protested.

"But your dotted line is not a dot!" Snape said sharply, for the seventh bijillionith time.

"_Aghhhhh_!"

"Maybe we should try something different."

(Two hours later)

"...so you see, the quiangle has three sides, with three angles, but also four sides, and a fourth angle. Well, actually five, if you count that everything is symmetrical..but we won't get into that. The fifth side in the quiangle is Arithmancy far more advanced then anything then you'll ever need to learn." Snape explained. His sleeves were now rolled up to his elbows, as he leaned over the desk, tracing out different pictures for different combonations, onto the parchment. It was exhausting to say the same thing over and over again, and _still_ not get any progress. 

Harry leaned over the other's arm to study the pictures. "How can there be three sides, and four angles, and four sides, with three angles?"

"Because the others are non existant."

"If they don't exist, then wouldn't it just be a triangle?" He asked, green eyes hard with concentration, trying to make out anything from the picture. A shape, a figure, a friggin' bunny, for godssake! Anything _minutely_ recognizable.

Snape pushed back his hair from his eyes in frustration as he leaned over the papers. "No, because if that were all, then it wouldn't be a quiangle. The fourth side does exist, just not in this place. It exists in the fourth dimension."

"How can there be a fourth dimension? And how come only one side is in this fourth dimension, and not the whole thing?" This was utter nonsense. How could anyone understand anything that Snape just said? It was like he was speaking gobbledegook. He was also no closer to finding out what a quiangle was then doing the Irish jig naked in front of Malfoy.

"The fourth dimension is also non existant." Snape repeated for the billionth time. For god's sake, what did it take to pound this into that little pea-brain? A _hammer_? Some wrestling and a steel chair? "It doesn't exist on physical earth. Just like the fourth side. And if the whole thing were in the fourth dimension, it wouldn't be a quiangle!"

"Well _sooory_, Mr. it does exist and it doesn't exist and the dot is the line which is the whatnot and the whoo-ha that isn't there!"

Snape shot up from his chair, and glared at the younger man. "If you came here only to ridicule me with the most badly plotted insults known to man, then you can leave!" He said darkly, pointing to the door. His eyes glittered with suppressed anger.

Harry got up from his seat, walking up to the other. "Fine!" He said, looking directly at him. They were so close that both of them could hear the harsh, labored breathing of the other as they faced each other down. The air crackled with contained tension. "I've had enough of this! You don't intimidate me any more. And at least my life isn't so sad that I have to _plot_ insults all day long." And with that he whirled and left.

Snape stood in the classroom, breathing in and trying to calm himself. And the fact that he found Potter strangely compelling at that moment, he simply chalked up to the ether.

----------------------

End

* * *

Sooo....what will happen next? Heh heh heh....you'll have to wait to find out!! 


	3. Tacos Saves the Day

Title: **Quiangular**

by: malcious lufoy

rating: PG

disclaimer: I think that by now, all of you can tell I am not J.K. Rowling. And if you think I am, i'm really flattered.

note: Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I just got off of school three days ago, and had to study for finals. But this new chapter concludes this whole story.Thanks for being patient!

* * *

Harry came back into the room, distinctly more calm and controlled. He looked up to see Snape sitting at the old teacher's desk, quill in hand, grading some papers. The Professor didn't look up, when he came in.

The morning light had faded away, leaving the room in a wash of color from the afternoon sun. Snape looked decidedly cooler, almost soothed as he continued scratching away liberally on some essays, with red ink. Usually he would just blind fold himself and mark down a letter grade, since he never actually _read_ the disgusting things. But sometimes, when he was feeling vicious, he would attack them like a shitzu on a hot dog bun.

Harry coughed a bit. "Um...I brought you some coffee and toast, Professor." He had taken the time away from studying to get some lunch, and was pretty certain that Snape hadn't had any.

Maybe this would soften him up a bit.

The other scowled a little, over his papers. "You can't soften me up with complimentary gifts of food." He said. Nonetheless, he did look up as Harry deposited the tray on Snape's desk, and picked up the cup from the tray.  
Sipping the coffee, he looked across to Potter sitting at his desk. "Well. I suppose you have already had your lunch, and break. Are you ready to get back to studying?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said dejectedly. Really, when was he going to use this in life, anyways? What was the _point_ of the quiangle anyway? Oooh, learning anonymous shapes in his early years will _really_ help him get a job or something. He slid into his seat, and cracked open his book again, waiting for Snape to continue on where they had left off.

"Since I have already tried explaining it to you with graphs, and verbally, and making you draw one, and yet you still cannot comprehend it, I suppose going through a problem won't make much of a difference." Snape said, from behind the desk.

"Hey! It's not my fault I can't understand! I mean, really, who could try and get how a four-sided triangle works on their first try, anyway? I bet you didn't." He exclaimed, trying to defend himself. Snape was merely silent. Actually, he _did_ get it on his first try, but since Potter seemed to think he was going somewhere with this speech, he didn't say anything. "And there's no need to sulk over my stupidity," Harry said, half in anger and half in dejection. Almost half the day was gone, and he still didn't get it!

At this, Snape frowned. "I do not sulk, Potter. I am merely expressing my displeasure with the physical features of my face."

Harry scowled in frustration. Not as good as Snape, but that would be like a comparison of orange juice to the eye as opposed to hydrochloric acid. "And besides, what do y'need a quiangle for anyways? It's not like it _does_ anything."

"There's no need for you to sulk, Potter. Many people have to learn things they never use, this is merely one of them. Stop being childish."

"I'm _not_ sulking. I'm 'merely expressing my displeasure with the physical features of my face.' " He mimicked.

Snape gave an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands up in the air. Why, why why _why_ did he choose to teach children? Of all the things in the world he could have done, he chose _teaching_! Why not train circus monkeys? Or start an emu farm? Perhaps he'd been on ether when he'd accepted Albus' offer...it'd be just like the canny bastard.

"Fine, Potter. Do you want to know what quiangles are used for?"

"What?" He retorted, sullenly.

"Don't get _shirty_ with me. You're the one who asked me to teach it to you, Potter."

"After sitting here for half the day not making any progress at all, I think I can get _shirty_ all I want."

The professor got up exasperatedly from his desk, and pulled up a chair close up to the other's, and opened his book between them. "You know how people shrink their luggage, or how Ministry cars are larger on the inside then they appear to be on the outside?"

"Yes." Harry actually seemed a bit interested in what Snape was going to say next.

"Well? Didn't you ever wonder _why_? How they could fit a larger space in a smaller one? What happens to the rest of the luggage when shrunk?"

Harry tapped his foot impatiently. What did any of this have to do with quiangles? "Well, not really. But, go on."

Snape looked him in the eye. "They do it by using the quiangle. When you shrink the luggage, you aren't actually getting rid of the rest of the mass of your materials. You're just sending it off into the part of the quiangle that isn't there. Like a sort of storage pocket in another plane, thus making your bags lighter."

"Wait, so you just sort of...apparate the rest of it off into another dimension? I mean, that's sort of...weird. How would you do that?"

"With a spell, Potter," Snape said dryly.

"Well, I know that! I mean, does the spell just send it off into this...other plane? How would you do that consciously? People just don't go, 'oh, let's send this off into a nether-plane!' , do they?"

"This is just a explanation, Potter of what we've been doing for a long time. No one knows how magic actually _works_, the mechanics of it. All we know, is that we control a force, and impose our wills on it, and it fulfills our desires. We don't know how it does it, we just know that it does. This is one of the few items in which magic is plausibly explained, in a fashion. The magic we use, sends the rest of the luggage into the other dimensional plane, and it's stored there till we reverse the process."

"So the quiangle..how does it do it?"

"The quiangle doesn't do anything. It's simply a state of being. For example, this is a ministry car," Snape sketched out a vague looking box. Harry cackled to himself silently at what Snape deemed a 'car'. The other glared at him, so he shut up. Instead, he cackled on the inside.

"Say you want to fit, oh, a roomful of furniture in there." Snape continued. "You couldn't possibly do that with that amount of space."

Harry asked impatiently, "So? What'd they do?"

"They enchant the space inside the car, to be bigger. But, this works, because..." here he paused, drawing out a picture of the quiangle.

"That's just a triangle with a dot!" Harry exclaimed, groaning. Back to inexplicable dots and their nebulous purposes. Wait, did he just think 'nebulous'?

"So, this is the space of the ministry car, right?"

"Err, sure..."

Snape sighed aloud, but went on, anyways. "And say, you want to fit, this much furniture into it." He sketched out an odd looking rectangle, bigger then the triangle. "How could you fit that," He pointed at the larger shape, as Harry's eyes followed his finger across the page, "into that?" He pointed to the triangle.

"You can't! It's physically impossible."

"Exactly. But, you see, the quiangle is just that." He said, getting more and more into the discussion. "It's a larger shape inside a smaller one, just like how the ministry cars can fit a larger space in a smaller car."

Harry's eyes went round. "Wait, so that point, or dotty thing- or blotch majig,"

"-_Blotch majig_?" Snape interrupted incredulous, a ridiculous look pasted on his face.

Harry went on, oblivious to the other's exclamation, "Really indicates the larger space inside the smaller one? Since you can't see it in reality, then you use the dot to represent the extra space..."

Snape nodded, not excitedly (he rarely got that happy), but pleased. "Exactly. And the extra space, since you can't have two things existing in the same space.."

"...Is in the fourth dimension?" Harry exclaimed, excitedly, (since he _did_ get that happy), and jumped up from his seat. His eyes shined with glee. He wanted to cackle with joy.

"Well well, Potter, it seems that with a lot of training, your brain _can_ progress from being a baked lump of sand." Snape looked at him, amusedly, and was that a hint of a smile on the professor's face?

Harry literally beamed with joy, getting more and more wound up. "Now I can understand all those graphs! And, yes, how the dot represents the point at which the shape spirals towards the end..."

"Yes yes, forming the fourth angle in the triangle!"

"...and that's where the apexial line is dotted to indicated it's there, since it going away from you in the page, so it looks like a dot from the front!"

"Exactly, you have really grasped all the concepts, Harry."

In fact, aforementioned Harry was so excited about finally figuring it all out, he didn't even notice Snape had called him by his first name. He jumped from his chair, flung himself at the seated professor, kissed him, then hugged him. "I can't believe it! I finally got it, Severus!" He told the other, voice muffled by Snape's soft shirt as he gripped him warmly.

Of course, the other was stiff with shock. Har- er..Potter...yes, that was it. Potter was...hugging him? He absolutely refused to believe that the kiss had occurred. Blame it on the ether, yup, that was it, the ether. Damn them oral surgeons!... _And did he call him by his first name_? Wha...what was he supposed to do? Snape slowly put his hand shakily on Harry's shoulder, as if he were about to grip a rabid monkey (though he wasn't sure if he _wasn't_), and set it down on the other's warm back. The glassy, bombshell look never left Snape's eyes.

Once the euphoria wore off, though, Harry was left wondering why he was hugging Snape. Oh, sure, he smelled nice, and felt deliciously warm...wait, he was _HUGGING SNAPE_?

Harry leaped out of the other's lap. "Ahg!" _Deliciously warm_?

"Whaa..?" Snape said, dazedly. He was still slowly trying to recover. No, scratch that. He was still trying to absorb. It wasn't working very well. Rather like a sponge picking up honey...or a magnet and a piece of wood. Non-metalic wood.

Meanwhile Harry panicked like there was no panicking to panic like the panic. He hugged Snape- wait, no, he didn't just hug Snape, did he? And he kissed him? Didn't he kiss him? But he _hugged_ him! But not as mortifying as kissing him! Wait, he _kissed_ Snape?... And he called him _Severus_!

"Ah..umm..err..." He stammered. Ohhh, Snape was going to _kill_ him. No, he was probably going to skin and flambee him to serve with some nice cream sauce and parsley the next time Malfoy came to visit him. And probably use his blood as wine...

"Um...yes, Potter." Snape said, trying to gather up his wits...wait, wait...there, they were failing him again. Damn their flimsiness in the face of sudden sentimentality! "Are there...any other questions you need to ask?"

"Uh..." Was there a bit of wistfulness in his voice? Did Snape want him to _stay_?

"Ahh, none?" Here his professor paused. Harry was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Snape might want him to stay, and in such cases of deep thinking, all he could do was work his jaw up and down silently. "Of course not." Snape muttered half to himself. What was he thinking? "Since you've obviously been smart enough to grasp the concept and all implications with it, you should have no problem doing your Arithmancy set."

Harry was shaken out of his reverie. "Wait, did you just compliment me?" He said, shocked. He paused, thinking. "...for the second time?"

Erg! Of all the things Potter has to pick up on! Does the boy have no subtlety? "Of course not." He replied, huffily. "I do not dole out compliments, especially to you."

Harry grinned, knowingly. "Of course you don't." He said gravely.

Snape was silent, and a long awkward pause followed. Crickets chirped, and a hooting from an owl broke the silence. Harry watched as a tumbleweed passed by- it caught onto Snape's clothing.

"Damned things! I told Sprout not to leave them around to float in through windows!" He growled, pulling it off. "And I distinctly told Hagrid to move those animals back into the owlery! They have no place being stored in a classroom." he said irritably.

Harry smiled a bit. "Well, uh, I better be going, then. I mean, the arithmancy set and all..." He said, awkwardly.

Snape cleared his throat. "Ahem. Yes." he paused, while Harry stood a while in the middle of the room, expectantly. "Well...you'd best leave, Potter."

"Yeah," He said, trailing off, yet he still stood there, not really moving at all.

"Yes..." Snape repeated, trailing off also. They stared at each other for a while.

Harry looked back at him, a little regretful, and dejectedly, before he walked across the room and opened the door, closing it softly behind him. Snape was just left, sitting alone silently in the bright, empty classroom.

---------------------

"Harry!" Ron called, from behind him, as he was going up the stairs to his room. "How'd it go?"

His friend simply looked back, startled. "Oh! um...well, I suppose."

Ron looked at him sharply. Reading Harry's tone, which was trying to pull off an 'oh, I'm fine,' airy feel, was really like hearing, 'I think I just got bludgeoned by something and am dazedly injured in some sort of way, because I am a hurt waif-like flower that needs to be taken care of'... weelll, that last part was Ron's maternal side running away from him. Okay, maybe being launched by a rocket blast. But that didn't mean he was wrong! No...in fact, that would make him even more right...

"Ohhohohoho, you can't pull that one on me. What went wrong? Snape didn't hack off a limb, did he?" Ron asked, peering at his clothes, searching for a missing arm or leg.

"What? No!"

Inspecting his friend closely, he asked, "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

Harry flashed back when Snape had set his hand on his back... "Err...well...no! No, nothing happened. I er, got what a quiangle was..."

Ron was about to go into a long, hard grilling on the events in question, when Hermione burst into the common room.

"Harry!"

"Hermione!" He exclaimed, glad to get away, since he _knew_ that look on Ron's face meant a long, hard grilling was imminent. "What are you doing here?"  
  
She dragged him back into the room, and onto a couch. "So? Did you get it? I hope Snape didn't give you too hard a time." Actually, she was surprised he wasn't missing any bodily parts...unless he was covering it up with a prosthetic limb...

"Yes, I did. Everything is crystal clear." He said to her, happily. "I was just about to go upstairs and finish up the rest of my arithmancy homework."

"Good for you, Harry. Unlike some people," At this, she pointedly glared at Ron, "You've learned how to do your own work, instead of mooching off of other's abilities."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "I don't mooch off of other's abilities!" Hermione gave him a pointed look, "I only mooch off of yours. You should be grateful I'm so faithful to you." He joked. Hermione flung _A History of Magic_ at him, which he dodged with grace.

Harry said good night to both of them as they bickered good naturedly, and slipped away upstairs into his room. He really needed to get this done for the next day...and think of some way to get Snape and him to meet again...

---------------------

Proffessor Vector had started writing other proportions on the board, as began to lecture. "We are going to use these proportionalities on the _rec-ti-cle_, a rectangle-circle, for the few lessons in the unit."

Everyone in the class made a strange face at the word, 'recticle.'

"He makes it sound like some sort of venereal disease." Ron said covertly. "Just listen to it said out loud! 'Recticle.' "

Everyone in the class made the same, disgusted face again.

"Ron, stop it! That's sick!" Lavender whispered, her face slathered with pure disgust.

"No," Harry debated. "It sounds like it has something to do with bowl movements.."

Hermione poked both of them in the ribs. "Pay attention!"

"The sincin, cogent, tacos, and tacosin, are all...."

Ron whispered to Harry incredulously, "And tacos? We're going to learn about tacos?" He started muttering darkly, "Next we'll be learning 'span-glais' and doing the 'Macarana'. Stupid arithmancy not even about arithmancy... chuiwawas...maracas..."

"You're just upset because you don't like tacos. You ate one for lunch one time and then you spewed all over your desk in Potions."

Ron shot his friend a dark look. "That just further proves that this class should have nothing to do with tacos! They're _evil_, Harry, I tell you..._evil_!!" his eyes went glassy for a moment. Harry scooted closer to Hermione.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Really, Ron, its pronounced _tay-cos_, not tacos! And you two should be listening to Professor Vector! From what I hear, this lesson is extra hard, so I better see some notes be taken!"

Harry grinned. "Yes Professor."

Ron ignored this, though, and went on talking. "And taco sin? Well, I agree that they can be a little greasy, but surely not a _sin_. Not anything I'd go to a confessional over..."

"Not taco sin! _Tay- co- sign_." Lavender told Ron, rolling her eyes.

"For the last time! They are _not_ talking about tacos!" Hermione said, exasperatedly. "_Tay-cos_ is a proportionality of the recticle."

Everyone made a face again, like they had eaten a bad tacos- and choked on it.

"Hermoine, loosen up! Geez, stop being such a bee-ach." Ron told her.

And at that, she was starting to launch into a great speech about how insensitive he was, and doubly stupid for trying to deflect that help she was genrously giving to him on Arithmancy, and the likliness of him ever scoring with a girl being at a ratio of zero to zero if he ever opened his mouth-

But Harry spoke before she could get a word in edgwise. "Bee-ach? What's a Bee-ach? Isn't that some kind of tree?"

The rest of the class went totally silent, turned around, and stared at him with shock smacked on thier faces.

Seamus muttered to Dean, "What I don't understand is why it's written in phonetics."

"The author wanted to readers to know which pronunciation to use," Dean whispered back.

"Oh!"

"You're not serious, mate?" Ron said to his friend incredulously.

Harry looked puzzled, while Malfoy looked slightly disgusted. "That's beech, you idiot! Beech! _Beech_ is a tree."  
"Well _sooorry_ Mr. Arbor Day!" He shot back resentfully, hating being mocked for ignorance, _especially_ by Malfoy.

Draco went white at this. "How did you know?!" He hissed furiously, grey eyes boring into his with fury.

"Err...know what?"

The blonde gave him a long look. "That's right. What." He started to turn around, but spoke to Harry again. "And you'd better remember that, _Potter_." And then turned around as if nothing happened.

"...and thus, having relatively only four angles, counting the fifth non existant one, the use of tacos and sincin will help us find the remaining un-integrated..."

Hermione looked furious. "Ron! Look what you did! I missed half the lecture already. I'm going to have to do a lot of book work to make up for this!"

"Not that you wouldn't enjoy that." He muttered back. Hermione hit him with _Hogwats: A History_.

"Ow! That's all that that books good for anyways. To bad you didn't aim it at the trash can."

Harry just looked struck with joy. He didn't understand a _single_ word in this lesson. Which meant he could rope Severus into helping him... Harry hid a smile.

"And what are you looking so happy about, mate?" Ron asked resentfully, being roped into studying with Hermione for the entire next weekend.

"Oh, I just thought about getting some extra help out of class..."

---------------------

(Somewhere, later, far away on the Malfoy estate....)

"You will kiss that muggle baby, even if I have to Imperius you into it!" His father bellowed, though the effect was somehow lost, because he was wearing a gauzy, hippie-like spring green and yellow robe, embroidered with purple pansies.

"You _can't_, even if you wanted to, remember? You're on the side of Light, fluffy bunnies, and a world rid lawyers now!"

Lucius paused, thinking. Draco was right, he'd have to think of some other way to bend him to his will. Err, he meant make him come to see things his way...yes.

Then a very evil...err, cheery Lucius like smile spread evilly....um, delightfully, across his face. "Very well, my son." He said airily. "I suppose you'll have to watch the next Oprah Winfrey show with me, while I arrange the centerpiece for dinner, for me and your mother's yoga blast work out group." His voice absolutely gushed with honey and sweetness.

Draco shuddered. He didn't know if it was over the fact that, a) his father and Oprah were used in the same sentence without the words horrible mutilations in it, b) the mention of yoga blast, or, c) the way Lucius voice went all...girlishly gushy when he spoke.

"We could even include you in our next animal rights protest- right before the vegan dinner."

"Ahhhhh!!!! Don't hurt my poor virgin ears!" He clamped his hands around said ears, and tried to block out that horrible, gushing voice.

"Are you alright, Draco darling? Perhaps you need some of that soy herbal supplement that I picked up at the health store."

It was somewhere between the Draco darling and the herbal supplement that he started spasming violently.

"Alright! Aright! I'll do it!"

His father smiled a satisfied, old Lucius smile, and his son was relieved of the nightmare. "See that you do, or else..."

Draco gulped. He _really_ didn't want to know... "What? Or else what?"

"I might be compelled to show all our guests your Arbor day recyclable crown that you won..."

"Fine! Fine, didn't I say I'd go, already?"

"I will see you at dinner, then. Oh, by the way, you're mother told me to tell you to get ready for your next feng shui lesson."

Draco then decided that his karma was probably coming full circle by now. Aaakk! I'm thinking in Buddhist terms! Those damn peace loving be-one- with-the-world monks! Father must be planting subliminal messages in my brain... Yes, that _had_ to be it!

Lucius went to cut the flowers in the conservatory for his centerpiece. It seemed as if those audio recordings at night in Draco's room were working...

---------------------

(Back at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) Harry shuddered. He glanced at Snape over his arithmancy textbook, and asked him, "Do you feel as if something happened just now that shouldn't have been recorded in history?" 

END

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And that's a wrap! If you enjoyed...tell me how I did!(Thanks to all who reviewed, I appreciated it a lot!) 


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